Of Glittering Seas and Reflected Skies
by Hellsig Otoupeim
Summary: The sea was a synonym of darkness, but maybe darkness wasn't without light. Nico hopes that, one day, he'll be able to see beyond the clouds and into the sky. Post-Gaea. Jasico


**Disclaimer** : I do not own any of the characters in this story. Rick Riordan made this castle, and I'm just trying to limit the plot bunnies' propensity for destruction.

* * *

To do good. (What is, to do good?) What is good when good is evil and evil seems good? What is good when the darkness becomes kinder than the light? What is good when the end seems sweeter than the beginning? What is good?

To do good.

To pretend to smile. To plaster a dangerously fake joy on your face.

To do good.

Good is subjective. Good is darkness. Good is the light. Good is the endless torture of innocent knowledge.

Can you do good without doing evil? Can you bestow kindness without tearing someone apart? Can you change the hopeless pit inside yourself if no one wishes to fill it? Can you hold a burning candle and not let it fall? Can you see the small bird shiver and not fear to break it?

Can you be yourself when yourself truly is the darkness seeping in?

Darkness is an odd silly little thing.

It is like a wave. Like a tidal recess. Like… it is like the sea. The dark and treacherous sea, full of smiling greens and loving blues. Gently lulling men in its quiet embrace, the phantasmagorical promises of lands not yet seen shimmering behind the endless horizon. The sea is the promise of freedom. The sea is the quiet lull of darkness.

The sea. The treacherous sea. The darkness pulling you under. The chasm beckoning your soul in. The fear lingering inside your mind. The gentle lullaby of luring sirens. The small knowledge of helplessness.

To Nico di Angelo, the sea was synonym of darkness.

(But well… ever since he looked up at the sky, he felt like it was okay to have a part of darkness within.)

.

The first time Nico got a look at Jason –a good hard look that meant he was seeing the blonde son of Jupiter, not just seeing him; it was because of Cupid (sillyassholefuckingbastard Cupid who caused him to lose all dignity and confidence he might have ever gained). Nico had looked at the blonde long and hard, had weighed all his options and calculated the burden of each consequence before he, surprising even himself, let the truth tumble out of his lips.

Of course Nico wasn't this gracious about it all. Who would be –how could one be, when their greatest secret, their most inner turmoil was suddenly torn away from them? It was his pride, the deepest working of his minds against the safety of the world. They needed every help they could get, and in Jason's eyes Nico could see the despair. The despair, the darkness, the need. Cupid was pressing him, mocking him –but Jason's eyes were the ones to force the Italian into spilling his secret.

They needed the information Cupid had. They needed to fight Gaea. And Nico? Nico…

He could just be yet another casualty of the war. He would just be another sacrifice made. What was the worth of one in the face of the world? It's not like he thought he'd get out of this quest whole to begin with.

(He wasn't a hero. He wasn't chosen to be on this quest. He didn't matter.)

.

Nico couldn't look at Jason after that. He couldn't even bear to look at himself in the mirror –so how could he look into those blue eyes of his, into the sincere blue eyes, and keep the façade up.

He was a freak. It was wrong for him to be like that. He was a freak. An accident. A disease.

All Nico could think about, in the darkness, was if Percy's smile would still be as bright when the sea god (he was a god, in Nico's eyes anyways) when the sea god would inevitably learn of this creepy, wrong, disgusting, revolting, unnatural love the Italian boy harboured.

(And how on earth could Jason still bear to look at him when he himself couldn't?)

.

"_if you… if you want to talk, I'm here… ya'know… can't be healthy to keep all that to yourself…"

"_I don't know what you are talking about."

That time, Nico avoided looking at Jason. How could he look into the young man's eyes and pretend to lie when they were so broken and soft and so damn understanding.

"_Nico I –"

"_save it. I don't want your pity."

Blue widened slightly. What? But Nico had already pushed past, his hands forcing Jason out of his way and disappearing into the depth of Argo II.

(A thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Where did Nico sleep, on this too big ship? In the darkened corner of his mind? In the deepest recesses of despair? Was Nico alone? Did Nico feel alone?)

(And a then a smaller, quieter thought. Did Nico's hand really feel this frail against his chest? Did he really feel it linger a second too long? Was he imagining things?)

.

Our favourite toys have the most scratches.

Nico looked down at the being he was. Thin and stretched over too prominent bones. White skin, scarred and marred by Tartarus, haunting his mind and breaking his will.

There was a vice like pain shooting through his chest every time he woke up. The silent knowledge that getting up, leaving his room, was putting a mask on the cracks, shining a bright light onto the imperfections and hoping it would smooth them out. There was a sliver of fear shooting up his spine with every second Nico spent knowing he had to go on. He had to go on, because people needed him to go on. (Hazel. Hades. Bianca. Percy. He had to stay alive to avoid Percy feeling responsible for his death.)

Nico loved the darkness. He loved turning the light off and curling up somewhere he remained hidden. He loved taking this mask off, allowing the cracks to stumble through his façade and break him. Nico loved letting go. Nico loved the darkness.

(He wondered if a light could exist in the darkness without killing it.)

.

"_stay safe!"

Nico's steps halted, brutally so as he seemed to recoil at the words.

The voice was warm. Baritone, almost, with the accents of fatigue. It curled through his body, slithering into his mind as the chocolate-smooth words finally registered in his brain.

Reyna's eyes flickered to him, something more than just a little annoyance sparking through them. The words were for the two, and yet the praetor gave them entirely to him. Nico wondered why. Why the darkness taking over the woman's eyes. Why the small, bemused smile which curled at the daughter of Bellona's taunting lips.

Stay safe.

He didn't know if he could. He didn't know if he could even force himself to make a promise like this one. He didn't know if he could look back without breaking. He didn't know if he could stay safe.

Safe was nowhere on this earth.

.

Nico was comfortable with that kind of friendship. (The one born out of need.) The friendship one had, because they spend days watching each other's back, days knowing that if they didn't get through to the end –then who would? Who would unite the Half Bloods under one banner if they failed? Who would rise to support? Who would be the faceless shadows if they weren't?

Reyna and Nico were comfortable with their friendship. The one born out of long silences and groans of pain. The one born from having to carry on your shoulders the person upon which your destiny laid. The one born out of the dark.

Reyna and Nico were comfortable with their friendship, comfortable with their silent agreement. They would watch each other's back. They would fight each other's battles. They would nurse each other's wounds. They would save each other's sanity.

Because the weight of the world was on their shoulders, all packed into the dazzling slight of one marble statue, and never again did they want to be alone in carrying it.

.

"_I need to stop…"

"_we can't."

"_Reyna… I won't get us through the next shadow. I can't get us through the next shadow. I can't even stand."

"_then I'll stand for you."

.

They were beaten. They were bruised. They were through with hoping. Hope had gone. The determination to save the world had shattered. All that remained was this need. This driving, maddening need. The need to survive.

And survival included this too big statue, looming over him more and more as Nico tried, tried and tried to get them closer to their destination. Survival involved getting back up when your body was beyond breaking down. Getting back up was standing on your feet when all you wanted to do was curl up and die.

Survival was standing up, even with your back hunched. Even with your shoulders slumped. Standing up. For the sake of being.

For the right to survive.

.

"_we need to keep going."

Nico nodded silently, his hand firmly holding Reyna's as he gripped the statue harder (cursed and wretched statue of the mother to a girl he envied). His strength was leaving him, the will to be no longer a substitute to the sleep he required. To the darkness he craved.

Just to curl up. Just to curl up and sleep. A moment of calm. A breath of fresh air. Just…

Just to survive.

Reyna's hand squeezed his harder.

At first, he hadn't wanted to touch the girl. He would grab her shoulder, her clothes… anything to avoid actually holding the woman, touching her skin and allowing himself to feel the reality under his fingers. If she was real, then so was his nightmare. At first, Nico had refused to touch the girl.

And then, over the days spent between running and feeling like the darkness spread over them, Reyna had gripped his hand. The strong praetor, the hardened leader –the woman who-wouldn't-crumble, she had held his hand and given him a small, small smile. A real smile.

Nico had found the strength to push past his limits once more.

He wished she would smile again. He wished she would allow her mouth to curve into a small arc, would let her eyes sparkle for a second and, even if it is but a tired smile, Nico wished to see the small sliver of happiness. To feel the rejuvenating knowledge that no. no. no. he is not alone. She is here. She is there, with him –and they bloody well will survive because if there is one damn thing they are good at; it is surviving when the world wants to kill them.

So Nico smiles. He allows his mouth to curve slightly at the edges when he grips Reyna's hand, feels the small squeeze and, when he looks up to see her face, there is a small tired smile illuminating the beauty she has. Oh. It's not like Percy's beauty; not like the lust he feels and the hummingbird taking life inside of him when he sees the dark haired boy. It has nothing to do with the beauty of an Aphrodite child, all on their skin, perfect and smooth skin hiding jagged shards of broken glass inside. It has nothing to do with beauty, other than the fact that Reyna's smiling and in her smile, Nico finds strength.

So he widens his smile a little, secures his hold on the Athena Parthenos (he doesn't need to check the one on Reyna –it feels like he couldn't let go of her even if he wanted to) and wishes them away.

.

All the smiles fade when they reach camp. All the smiles disappear in the face of the grim greyscale the world has become (because the smiles are sweet and intimate and they belong to Reyna and Nico only). All the smiles are gone, but the warmth they leave behind is the reason why Nico allows himself to sag into the praetor's hold when they are alone.

She is the only one who sees the lost little boy –just like he is the only one to admit there is a betrayed little girl hiding inside the strong woman.

.

One day the sky is a heavy grey and the next it shines a bright blue onto the whole world. One day there is Gaea to fight –and not the next.

This is how the world spins. One day things exist and they next they are gone. Just like the clouds in the sky.

.

Nico wonders how the hell the sky can be this blue when so many souls have left. He wonders how the hell the darkness can recede so suddenly from the sky when it lingers in his mind. He wonders why. Simply why.

Nico wonders why.

Why the fields look so golden, why the sky is this limpid shade of blue and why the hell is there a purple flower blossoming where his broken friends laid, a flower that reminds him of someone else.

Nico wonders why the hell, and then suddenly decide that why the hell isn't the right thing to wonder. The right thing to wonder is 'how the hell' because he knows this is just a disillusion, the adrenalin rush exiting his system and that he will soon crash and return to his comfy little crush on Percy that saved him from the darkness of the world so many times.

Still. Nico wonders how the hell the sky can manage to be so blue when the earth is painted red.

.

"_Nico. Can you…" Reyna breathes in and out, silently willing her nerves to steel as she braces a smile on her face and forces her voice to become assured again.

"_would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the burning of the shrouds?"

Nico knows he can't say no, especially not when Reyna asks with this formal tone (because it hides so much hurt and pain that Nico knows she must be breaking apart inside). So Nico pulls his toga over his head, forces some sandals on his feet and follows Reyna out of the door.

He hasn't lost anyone yet. He is lucky.

.

Nico is just a faceless shape in the crowd. His name means nothing, his face is but a shadows in the masses of broken, battered bodies which have gathered to see their friends go. He is not one of the Seven –he never wanted to be. Fame and glory are not his, only the knowledge that, in the darkness, he managed to do what was right.

For once, Nico feels like he belongs.

After all. He is like the others here. His name was sacrificed to the war, his innocence lost to the clutches of intrigue (and all of this because those Gods couldn't settle matter themselves. Because they didn't want to settle matter themselves.)

Nico is angry at the gods. He knows Reyna is as well, he knows she is fuming at the way they treated them (because they were just pawns on their chessboard, meaningless pieces which they moved about and sacrificed without a second thought. They were just the spares.) Nico knows Reyna is angry –because she told him so.

In the crowd, their eyes meet. She is the one doing the burning, the only Praetor there to do it. She is the one they look up to when the darkness threatens. She is the one they look up to, to clear their mess. She is the leader. She is the only one.

She is the woman who does not bow. She is the one who never breaks. She is Reyna, and she is the praetor of a new Rome.

.

Nico is the crutch to the praetor of New Rome, and he realises that he truly doesn't want the weight of fame. With great power come great responsibilities –but Nico just wants to nap. He just wants to sleep and never wake up.

And he admires Reyna. Strong and beautiful Reyna who lost all she had and managed to stand on her feet. He admires Reyna, because Reyna is all that he respects. Nico admires Reyna, and slowly he begins to realise that the darkness doesn't have to be lightless.

.

The next time Nico sees Jason, he is talking with Reyna. The girl has this posture about herself, her chin set too high and her eyes too hard, for it to be truly a conversation Reyna wants to have. But she holds strong –and Nico knows what it is that they speak of. He knows Reyna, knows the darkness seeping inside her heart.

(Nico has the same inside his)

.

"_Hey, Queeny."

Queeny. It is such a stupid thing, such a silly nickname that brings them this tiny bit closer. Queeny. Only Nico calls her Queeny (just like only she calls him 'Sunshine'). Queeny is like their smiles. Just for when the two of them are alone.

"_Sunshine. What the hell are you doing in my quarters?"

Nico shuffled nervously, his eyes straying everywhere but to the face of the girl before him.

"_Chiron… asked me to go back. With the others." Tomorrow.

Reyna looks down, her dark eyes hidden beneath the long lashes. Nico closes his own, aware of the darkness seeping in again. Two is a whole lot lonelier than one, he finds. Two is a whole lot harder than one, he finds.

"_when will you be back?"

"_I think… New Rome isn't far off… I'll just be an IM away."

And there is a small smile on her face, the one that Nico remembers seeing amidst the grime, the blood, the tears. Amidst the pain and the darkness, the smile was there and Nico knows that whenever this smile may be –he'll find the strength he needs in it.

So Nico closes the gap to where Reyna is sat, on her bed. He nears her, too suddenly for it to be wholly natural and just allows his arms to wind up around the girl. Her own shoot out immediately, gripping Nico tighter than they ought, tighter than is really needed; but it's alright.

He is there, he will always be there and that is all Reyna needs at the moment. The smiles, the nicknames, the darkness. Reyna knows they are theirs and theirs only. To share, to treasure, to uphold, to keep.

Because Nico will always be, just an IM away.

.

Reyna is at the gates, for the formal goodbyes a good praetor needs to give. A small speech is given by her as Nico stands quietly in the crowd. He stands out in the mass of purple and orange, dressed in black and scrawny; pale. Reyna bits back a smile on more than one occasion through her speech, as she robotically tells the rest of Camp Half Blood they'll forever be welcomed into New Rome as if they were Romans. Applause, both from the Romans and the Greeks, greet Reyna as she gets down from the little platform, giving her space to Percy and Jason. Percy and Jason. They will both go back with the Greeks, leaving her alone once more.

But Reyna is Reyna. She fears nothing, not with the strength she can draw from a simple smile; a force which carries her through fatigue. She nods and thanks every person as they pass by the gates of a reconstructing New Rome, sometimes joining a small smile to the slightly cold declaration. Reyna is tired, and Nico sees it. She is through with holding on.

So he gives her his parting gift, in the hope she'll find the same strength as he does in it.

"_goodbye, Queenie" he whispers, sending her one of his rare smiles.

Reyna's eyes smile for her, as she whispers back.

"_see you later, Sunshine."

And it is just right like that.

.

"_you've been spending a lot of time with Reyna… are you…"

Nico stiffened as soon as he heard Percy's voice, drifting over his shoulder. He whipped around; eyes wide in anxious fear and molten chocolate met sea green. Nico's mind reeled at the words, their sense finally drilling into his brain.

"_Reyna? And me? Ew. No. She's like my sister. Plus, she's a girl…"

Eyes widened, a doe caught in the headlight with the weight of the revelation.

Nico stumbled. He tripped. (He fell.) Panic seized him, hands shaking as his minds tried to compute the mess he was in. He admitted to being gay, in front of Percy. He was going to be shunned. He was going to be left alone.

Who would want someone like him? How could some–

"_I didn't know you were gay. Well, I guess not Reyna then. Do you like someone, Nico?"

Blue eyes flickered in his mind, the Italian chasing the thought away.

"_don't worry, you are not my type."

(Why didn't these words leave an acrid taste on his tongue?)

.

Oh shit moments happen very, very unexpectedly. (They are the moments someone does something small, silly and even stupid, something that makes you smile softly and you realise suddenly that this person exists in way you have never noticed. There is that 'Oh shit' moment that makes your heart beat faster and your eyes widened and you see the person in a way that you have never seen before. Softly. Lovingly. With the knowledge that eternity by their side wouldn't be so bad.)

Nico's 'oh shit' moment happened so very unexpectedly. (He felt like the floor had just been stolen from underneath him and had he not frozen so stiffly, he would have fallen there and then.)

Camp Half Blood was having yet another capture the flag, this one opposing the Blue team (Annabeth and Percy) to the red (Jason and Piper). Nico had been tasked by Percy to take a vantage point, surveying the area and 'flash stepping' to where the red team was moving in order to halt their advance. Nico had been alert, ready to move out at a moment's notice when a movement at the periphery of his vision had caught his eye.

There was Jason, crossing the forest around the Fist of Zeus and circling the melee. Nico shadow travelled without a thought, leaping at the blonde as soon as he left the shadows. Taken by surprise, the son of Zeus allowed Nico's small frame to topple him over. They landed onto the ground in a messy pile, Nico's sword at Jason's throat.

"_damn it." the son of Jupiter quietly swore. Nico chuckled good heartedly, helping him up and just about to tie his hands behind his back as he took him 'prisoner', when Jason smiled at his mirth.

It was a simple and quiet smile, something content with the way things were. Nico's heart leapt into his throat, his eyes widened and all he could think was 'oh my Hades.'

(He let forth startled peals of laughter at the thought he had just fallen in love –it was so fucking unfair.)

.

"_this went better than I thought it would…" trailed off Jason, his voice filling Cabin 13. Nico had returned to the darkness of his room after his encounter with the son of Poseidon, only to find Jason sitting on the steps leading up to the door. Nico had silently groaned, desperately trying to ignore the feelings stirring in the pit of his stomach.

This was stupid.

"_how was it?"

Jason's question startled Nico, pulling the boy out of his reverie.

"_how was what? Telling Percy?"

"_no. how was it, being gay thirty years ago?"

Nico froze, his breath catching in his throat as he uneasily replied.

"_I can't tell you; I didn't really realise I was gay back then."

Jason's eyes strayed long after his voice had fallen back to a murmur, caressing the length of Nico's body as his thoughts reeled inside his head. He didn't believe what the Italian had said. He couldn't believe what the Italian had said.

The fear had been too present.

.

They laugh at clouds, because they are pushed wherever the wind wishes them to go. They hold no control over their fate –but Nico knows.

The clouds acknowledge the wind; they accept it and use it to their advantage.

Humans have yet to realise the gale hurling them along.

.

"_hey, Queenie."

Reyna had appeared into the small ray of light, the young praetor IM'ing Nico, as she had done every day for the past two weeks.

"_hey Sunshine. How's it going?"

"_it's going. I'm trying to avoid Percy and Jason at the moment. What about you?"

"_Frank is blundering less than he normally does –I suppose that sister of yours has finally gotten him potty trained. Avoiding Percy and Jason? Why so?"

"_potty trained? You have the strangest expressions Reyna… and well. I kind of came out (by accident) a few days ago."

"_and? How did they take it? Do I need to kick some ass?"

Nico laughed, his face lighting up at the sight of Reyna, his Reyna, the way he knew her and not the way she tried to be seen.

"_better than I thought they would. Jason already knew, but Percy just kind of shrugged it off, like he didn't care."

Reyna's eyes drifted on him, taking the way he spoke and his facial expressions in.

"_and you? How do you feel?"

Nico bit back a heartfelt laugh, smile curling on his lips as he grinned at the girl.

"_I told him he wasn't my type!"

Laughter bubbled through the rainbow.

(He hadn't answered her question, but that was answer enough.)

.

Queenie was such a silly nickname.

It had come from the fact that Reyna's name sounded a lot like the Italian word for "queen", and in his hazy mind state, induced by days of fatigue and shadow travelling, Nico had called Reyna by her Italian counterpart. Ever since, when the two of them were on their own, he would refer to her as Queenie.

It made Reyna smile (and dare he think it; it made her feel special.)

.

Sunshine was equally as ridiculous.

It had tumbled from Reyna's lips soon after she had been dubbed Queenie, her mind instinctively associating Nico to such an ironic nickname. Of course, Reyna knew that anyone ever hearing it would think she was being teasing, maybe even overly sarcastic and making a slightly mean reference to his gloomy attitude, his dark clothing and his cynical view of the world.

But Reyna was truthful when she called Nico Sunshine. He was her sunshine.

In the darkness of the days spend running away; always hiding in the looming shadow of the Athena Parthenos, Reyna had come to know Nico. She had come to appreciate the small moments during which he would lift his head up, glancing at the statue and shake his head dejectedly –as if he were thinking something sarcastically funny. Reyna had come to appreciate the way his hand clenched around hers, the way he sometimes smiled at her out of the blue and forced her own grin onto her face.

Reyna had come to love the fact that, even when the clouds covered the stars, the sky and the sun, Nico managed to make his smile brighten the darkest of times.

It was her own small corner of blue sky; her personal ray of sunshine. Their little secret.

.

Nico sometimes felt the weight of stares on his back.

(When the new campers looked at him with awe in their eyes, because how could have this little scrap of a boy stopped the Roman Legion all by himself?)

He wondered how others coped with the weight of judgement bestowed upon them.

(One day, he saw Jason lean against the back a building, head bowed and fists clenched. Nico leant beside him.)

"_I wish they would stop." The blonde murmured. "I wish they wouldn't look at me like that. I am not a hero."

"_but you are, Jason. You are the Golden Boy of the Greek."

There was a silence, a long silence during which their eyes met.

"_sometimes, I wish I were still Roman. I didn't wonder about who I was then. I was Jason Grace, praetor from the Fifth Cohort and leader of the Romans. I would die in the glory of Rome and my name would be engraved on the marble stone. But now…"

Nico couldn't look away from his eyes, the colour of a clear summer's sky.

"_now I have a future and I am not sure I want it. It feels weird. I never expected to go outlive all the others."

"_I'm glad." Nico whispered softly.

(Three words, but it was enough for the blue skies to darken with something Nico was sure wasn't anger, pain or sadness.)

.

Nico always used to shadow travel straight to Reyna's quarters, inside the Praetor's villa, when he came to visit. (He had a way of forcing her to honesty that had nothing to do with willingness.) Reyna never told him not to. (Not even when he came in as she changed. Not even when he came in as she slept. Not even when he came in and she wasn't there.)

Reyna trusted Nico. (He wasn't sure he was comfortable with how much faith she had in him.)

Nico always used to shadow travel into Reyna's home.

He remembered (and sometimes he wished he couldn't) what made him reconsider his decision. (Now he shadow travelled into her peristyle rather than her bedroom, her kitchen, her living room. Now he shadow travelled and knocked on her door, unless he was announced.)

It was after the war (it was always after the war), when Reyna was still stretched thin because Frank couldn't yet handle the ropes like she did. (Frank never would handle the ropes like she did.) The Asian boy had been sent as an ambassador to the Greeks after a small issue with the Fourth Cohort, who had refused entry to Jason when he came to visit.

("Who are you?" they asked him. "Who are you to stand beside our Praetor and claim to speak to her? Who are you, traitor?")

Reyna hadn't punished the Cohort. (She had trained with them the following day, had given them attention and smiled. Because the fourth Cohort stood by her. They were hers.)But Frank had been sent to smooth things over with Camp Half Blood. (Wouldn't want them upset because they back talked to their Golden Boy.)

So Reyna was alone, alone once again in Rome and leading the Camp. She was alone and lonely, and the night was dark and long and suffocating –and Reyna just wanted to be loved. ("No one will ever heal your heart." No one would ever love her.) The night was dark and it was long and Reyna was tired.

(She was crying when he shadow travelled into her kitchen. Tears were seeping down her cheeks and she was biting her lips and the hot chocolate she had been drinking was slowly seeping into the wood of her table. It would stain, wouldn't get out –wouldn't have even if her blood hadn't been mixed in with it. Her hands were shaking as she held her golden dagger with a careless certainty. Bloodshot eyes startled up at him and in the space of a second she was back to being the Praetor. Guarded and regal and alert, with eyes dry and her mind ready to fight as tears still lingered on her lashes and blood dried on her skin.)

Nico had known Reyna was hurting. He had known she smiled and it wasn't true, he had known she wore the purple toga as some would chains. He had known she was Reyna, Queen of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata and the sole roman Praetor to have reigned alone.

He had known she was strong.

(He had just forgotten how strong she was.)

The next time Nico shadow travelled, he knocked on the front door. She let him in with a raised eyebrow ("that's new.") and her table was a harsh, cold plate of marble.

.

There were days Nico wondered if it wasn't so beautifully unfair.

These were the days Jason smiled and Reyna pretended she didn't see the blonde and black heads in the crowd. These were the days she said kaleidoscopes made her too dizzy to truly appreciate them, but if he wanted to love blue then she wouldn't begrudge him. Hazel and blue was just electrifying enough for her to like it.

These were the days Nico wondered what kind of woman Reyna was. (Woman. Not a child. War had a way of killing innocence, and even without war Reyna was a woman from the moment she stood proud and tall before the Twelfth Legion Fulminata and raised her chin and clenched her jaw and set her eyes and became a legend.) What kind of woman would smile as her soul bled, what kind of woman would say the very things that killed her and mean it in a way he never could match.

She would truly stand beside him if he were to raise his eyes to the sun and rise to seize it.

There were days Nico wondered if it wasn't so beautifully unfair.

(He was in love with a man he didn't want to love, and she was so gracefully telling him to go for it because she was so broken anyway it didn't matter if she shattered a little bit more.)

.

Jason was a ball of sunshine that made Nico's heart hurt.

(He felt like Icarus, flying so high and close to the sun on borrowed wings. It was painfully addictive.)

There were days with soft touches and gentle hands, when Jason ruffled his hair and gripped his shoulder and smiled, so softly and kindly and lovingly that Nico felt all the breath leave his body.

There were days when they fought, sweaty and tired with the sun beating down on them. Their arms ached from the weight of their swords, their legs ached from how tense they were and his hair constantly fell into his eyes. (He needed to cut it.) He had been blowing a strand out of his eyes again, trying to dislodge the bloody curl, when Jason had relaxed his stance. Nico raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the blonde as he walked towards him. Jason smiled impishly, sliding his sword back into the scabbard at his belt and snapping a hair band from his wrist. Nico extended his hand to grab it, but the son of Zeus beat him to it.

Rough, weathered hands (warrior hands) pulled tangled curls back, tugging and catching in his hair as Jason tied it all up in a messy ponytail. It hurt where his hands caught into a knot, and Nico was positively sure there was nothing grosser to touch than his sweaty dark locks, but it was something else than caught his attention. (Jason was so close.)

He smelt like musk and tree bark and iron.

(He hadn't smelt like that since Piper and he had started going out.)

Chocolate eyes flew up to the man before him, startled and wide. (Doe's eyes, raw and open and disbelieving.)

"_you broke up with Piper?"

Jason took a startled step back, not having anticipated this accurate examination of his person. Nico winced when the band slapped a little against his skull and Jason hurriedly apologised.

"_ah, how do you…? We haven't really… told anyone."

"_just an impression. If it not… indiscreet… how? Why?" Nico's blood was pounding in his ears, his heart flaring madly as his pulse skyrocketed.

"_I just…" he looked away, scuffing his shoe before forcing an overly bright smile on his face. Nico winced. "We both liked someone else."

The intensity in his voice captured Nico, whose eyes locked and remained with Jason. He was enraptured by the emotions in them, the raw, open wounds beating in there. How bared his feelings were.

(He wasn't reading things correctly. How could he see that in the cerulean depths? It was madness.)

It wasn't madness.

Jason's hand softly came to touch his arm. Nico froze, startled and bewildered. (He was mocking him. he was having a laugh? He was joking. He had to be.)

"_Nico…"

His hand skittered across the exposed skin of his arm, butterfly touches kissing his skin, along his biceps and resting softly on the sun-kissed expanses of his chin.

(He was better now. A little bit more whole, getting more sunlight and happiness. He was a bit more healed.)

Jason's lips on him were chaffed.

It was awkward, at first. (Jason's nose bumped into his cheek, the angle wrong. His lips were rough and the taste of sweat flavoured the kiss. There was sunlight and happiness on those sweet teeth.) Jason was so nervous, feeling no response from the Italian up until the dark haired boy silently raised his chin. Their mouths shifted, the lips slanting properly over one another and the awkwardness melted away.

(There was the quiet chatter of people in the background, the afternoon rays of the sun warming his sweaty back and a cool breeze that made his cheeks so much warmer.)

.

Sometimes, Reyna reminded Nico of those mothers. The ones that put their children on life rafts and allowed it to let go because it was only big enough for one. The ones that handed their children out to firefighters when their house were burning and knew they wouldn't have the time to get out. The ones that smiled across glass doors and waited until their children had gone to crumble and cry.

Sometimes, when Reyna smiled at Nico because she saw on his face that he was happy with Jason, she had this incredibly soft look in her eyes, like broken glass shining in the sun. (It was a humbling look. One that made him want to hide his face in Reyna's shoulder.)

.

There were bad days.

Days when Nico felt the guilt flood through him as he thought of Reyna's blood on the wooden table. (He hadn't done a thing. Never had, never would –and he felt like a coward for it.) Days when Nico wondered if she still cried at night, all alone in her kitchen. Days when Nico wondered if Reyna held it together when she was with him like she did when she was in front of the legion. Days when he wondered if, when she smiled, she was happy.

There were bad days.

Days when Jason wondered if the war hadn't broken them beyond repair. Days when Nico glared at the sky and wondered how it could be so blue when the earth was tainted so red still. There were days when the rain ran crimson and the golden crops reminded him of the battlefields. There were days when Jason asked himself if it was stupidity that had made him fall in love with someone that didn't know how to live. (Being a child of death tended to do that to someone.)

There were bad days.

.

There were also good days.

Days when Nico smiled and laughed and held Jason's hand above the table. Days when the sun shone and the smell of the earth after the rain made the son of Hades smile. Days when Reyna and him sat in the Gardens of Bacchus and laughed as the soft petrichor surrounded them.

There were good days.

Days when Jason joined them on the seventh Hill of Rome, days when Nico knew Reyna was a strong woman who didn't need a man to stand. Days when Jason smiled at the Praetor and she smiled back –because Nico was happy and she was happy and she wouldn't bow to love. She was married to the Legion. She was a praetor, it was in her blood and in her flesh and her scars were love bites.

There were good days.

Days when Jason smiled when he woke up and looked across at Nico. Days when they decided that a road trip would do them nicely and Reyna handed the keys to her car with a roll of her eyes. Days when they brought her expensive hot chocolate back and she smiled. Days when Jason and Reyna spoke without the hurt in between them.

(There were days when the past didn't have to hurt in order to exist, and they knew they were at peace.) There were days Nico didn't need to say he was happy in order for the two by his side to know. These were the days he shadow travelled inside Reyna's villa and asked her if she would mind being his Witness. These were the days the Twelfth Legion Fulminata rocked up to their wedding and threw a wild party –because he might be the awkward son of Pluto and Jason might have abandoned them, but they were children of the Gods and bloody hell. There had been too much hatred for it to last through their generation. These were the days Reyna did more than just be his Witness –she wore the purple of a Queen and directed the ceremony.

There were good days.

(For every bad day, there were a hundred more good days to come.)

.

The sea glittered prettily on the horizon, but Nico had come to acknowledge it was merely a reflection of the sky.


End file.
